For more #LunchBreakPoetry be sure to like and subscribe to The Opinion Editorials at the bottom of the page.
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness” my Grandmother used to say
And I think she may have been right.
For what is cleanliness but an outward reflection of our innermost daemon?
And who will retrieve that which you have just discarded, but another man?
One man’s detritus is the burden of another, of the men who care for Mother Earth’s comfort.
For if mother is not happy, who else could be?
As you lay asleep in bed twisting and turning at night, know it is because you torment your mother and curse your father.
Children obey your parents for it is well pleasing to the Lord
…but we hate our mother and her womb.
We refuse to listen to her cries as we drain her of her blood and do as we please with her body.
Reform at the end of a barrel is not repentance in the heart.
Therefore though the men of care attempt to protect mother, there are still those who bludgeon her in the shadows of the cave and force themselves upon her goods.
Nature is in a constant state of terror.
And even a mother though she loves her child, if pushed to the brink will return them to her womb.
She will open up her crust and swallow them whole; She will stir up the seas and drown the masses; She will bend the winds to her will and tear down the statues of steel and brick we erect.
And the innocent will die and we will cry for them, us of the Litterites and our Legions of Complicit.
And in our own wailing we will not hear that of our mother, but in a glorious battle cry will forge ahead and rebuild.
For who can stop the mob once it has begun to move, not our father, not our mother, not our Lord.
Only the men of care of which there are few.
*picture credit: "Holly" by Louis Smith, 2011 BP Portrait Award